


Hooked

by halotolerant



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Dildos, Double-Ended Dildo, M/M, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 14:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7938631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halotolerant/pseuds/halotolerant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For prompt: <i>they both love bottoming so the solution is double-ended dildos? :D :D</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hooked

_Hooked together._

 

That seemed fitting, even as they fit together, as it fit into them.

 

Will was sure he’d appreciate that aspect of it too, sooner or later. Would see this through the lens of poetry, of fate, of some inevitable intertwining of the threads of reality twisting, skeining round them. Their destiny to be caught and held in place as one, in either opposition or alignment.

 

Hard to take that sort of detail in, though, right at the moment, everything considered.

 

Hannibal gasped, and Will was aware of him shifting, his arms moving to grasp tight around Will’s upper body in a slightly different configuration as, seated on the floor and facing each other, they embraced. Skin was sliding against sweat-glossy skin, creating the still noticeably different feel of being close to someone with body hair.

 

Everything went black - Will’s eyes had fluttered closed. That sharp redness was pain; Hannibal was biting at his lip. Will pushed forward, wanting more of the same.

 

Of _course_ this was Hannibal, you didn’t just climb onto one arm of a double-ended dildo with someone else opposite unless you were passably confident of their identity. But. Every time Will had some tiny reason to really remember that this, here, the man surrounding him in every way, was Dr Hannibal Lecter - that silver-shading wiry hair on his arms, the cadence of the groans Hannibal didn’t always manage to stifle, the scent of him, the feel of every last sharp tooth - every time something deep in Will flexed, tensed and made everything… _harder._

 

That word was fitting, wasn’t symbolism, really. More like a juvenile sense of humor.

 

So, to be honest, like Hannibal’s sense of humor.

 

“I confess, my pride makes me hesitate to ask what you are giggling about at this moment,” Hannibal murmured, face half pressed into Will’s neck. He began vengefully nibbling at the place there, not quite half way up a tendon, that made Will likely to whine and his cock to drip.

 

That was unnecessary effort on Hannibal’s part; the mere sound of his voice was having those effects already.

 

Hannibal’s teeth, Hannibal’s teeth, Hannibal’s _teeth_...

 

Possibly Hannibal wasn’t trying to be efficient. Will couldn’t think, couldn’t hold a chain of logic in his head, could barely breathe for how good it felt, for the heat burning up through him, around him, prickling, licking flames. Jabbing like needles; the goodness, the teeth, the thick blunt penetration, the sound of Hannibal’s ragged breathing, the press of each finger to his back.

 

But Will had his own pride too. Bracing his feet, he rocked them both, and the U-shaped piece of black rubber they both sat speared on, against the plushly carpeted bedroom floor.

 

Hannibal flailed a moment, unbalanced, grabbing. Panted. Bit at Will’s neck harder, near now to breaking skin.

 

They were, of necessity, sitting very close as they interlocked front-to-front, legs woven together and their arms loosely hugging. In the small close space between them Will could feel every time that his cock jostled into Hannibal’s - tried, when he could gather any continuous executive thought to do so, to prevent that happening. He was desperate to make this last.

 

This, this, _this_ , so fitting, so good, it fit inside him and Hannibal around him and...

 

Very hard… yes, in so many ways, to avoid the ending now - the tension rising, building, glorious marrow-deep thrills racing through and through Will’s body from Hannibal everywhere and the thing they both shared inside them.

 

That Will enjoyed being penetrated more than almost any other act (give or take the consideration he’s given to being bitten since Hannibal), was something he’d long known about himself, and something he’d assumed Hannibal would appreciate. Hannibal, after all, had form when it came to sticking things into Will’s body.

 

Those memories too, every time, roil something that could be nausea through his belly and mind, except it isn’t that, or if it is it only makes him harder, makes his cock twitch, makes him want to kiss Hannibal’s mouth until neither of them can breathe…

 

He’s broken somehow, clearly, he’s in a million pieces and yet like the sparkling of shattered glass they _shine_...

 

Hannibal had been curious - and wasn’t that the least surprising turn of events ever - and so despite what had been somewhat of a habit in the other direction, Will had fucked him one night. The way it made Hannibal feel had seemed to be a surprise even to Hannibal. Will hadn’t known whether to try and comfort him, he’d seemed so bemused - red in the face, lying on the bed slack as if he’d been gutted, staring wide-eyed, damp-eyed at the ceiling. That had been back at the start, and that had been nearly ten months ago; Will hadn’t known, then, that he was allowed to reach out. How much he wanted to.

 

 _You inside me is like nothing else_ , Hannibal had told him, and of course Will had thrilled to hear it, and they’d done that, exclusively, for a while, gorging on it.

 

But there are many types of appetite - another in the raft of what should not to either of them be revelations - and Will had missed being penetrated.

 

(A revelation in itself, how it felt to be talking about what he wanted in bed out loud, explicit, in detail - Hannibal loved the detail, loved anatomical precision and diversity in adjectives but also filth, four letter words, staccato, and half their conversations broke down into fast and messy sessions with their hands in each other’s pants and Hannibal’s teeth bare and working)

 

It had been Hannibal’s evident pleasure to come up with numerous ideas for solutions to their impasse, but this was undoubtedly the one that had worked best, the one that did the most for both of them.

 

Even without their preferences it might still have been the case that they loved it Will thought. They made sense like this, equal and opposite, conjoined, sharing one experience, watching each other.

 

Hooked.

 

Caught.

 

“Hannibal!” Will found himself murmuring, over and over, and clung on harder, hugging tight, feeling his hole tighten and flex, feeling his cock jerk and strain, feeling his nipples rubbing into Hannibal’s chest hair. They were see-sawing, one rhythm serving them both, and Hannibal was leaking freely as he tended to and it was hot and acrid, scent rising, and with a shaking hand Will guided Hannibal’s head to his shoulder, encouraging him to latch on and bite down.

  
The world contracted and exploded, and he couldn’t think any more at all.

 


End file.
